Ad Infinitum
by the quintessence of wyrd
Summary: “She was a special case. She changed the way I thought, turned my whole world upside down…” SiriusxOC


**A/N:** Took a very long break…"I Heard a Bird Sing" is on a definite hiatus. I doubt very many people will miss it anyway. :/ I did feel like posting something, however (lots of unfinished promising bits and things left abandoned in computer to rot and lose storylines), so here is this little foreword…thingy. I had a first chapter which I wrote before this, but I think I deleted it. :/

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It was Christmas Eve. Sirius Black was alone in the kitchen of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, humming "Rudolph the Red-Beaked Hippogriff" under his breath and drinking his sixth bottle of butterbeer. The decorations had been put up-all the baubles, charms, and tinsel that were required for your standard holiday celebration, and then some. Molly Weasley would whip up a magnificent feast for them tomorrow and had promised Sirius that she would specially prepare her rhubarb crumble just for him. Now he had a little down time to think back on things and steep in his happiness.

Sirius smiled contentedly to himself. Heck, he would even hug Kreacher right now, he was feeling so bloody good. He hated being imprisoned inside this woeful, condemned place, he always had, but his mood had much improved since everyone had decided to bunk here with him. With good company and a little sprucing up, the hellhole he had been raised in wasn't so bad after all, he thought, looking around fondly and taking another generous swig of butterbeer. A sort of warmth flooded into the pit of his stomach in lieu of the emptiness he'd been feeling for the past few months. Nothing could bring him down at the moment, except for the fact that right after break everyone would return to school, workplace, and home, leaving him to wallow in his own misery again with the insufferable house-elf and an imprint of his god-awful mum.

His smile instantly vanished at the thought. By himself in a place he'd always loathed…he never thought it would turn out this way. Where had he expected himself to be in twenty years, back when he was at Hogwarts? Certainly not a fugitive on the run from the Ministry who had been framed for his crimes. A startling image sprung from his mind-him, laughing, carefree at the age of seventeen, arms wrapped around…_her._ A lump formed in his throat. He thought he'd be married by now, after he'd gotten to live his exciting bachelor life, of course, with three kids and a Kneazle and a Crup. And all with her. He somberly took another gulp of butterbeer. Things just don't turn out the way they were meant to be…

"Sirius?" A familiar voice shook him from his thoughts. It was his godson, Harry, hair rumpled and glasses on crookedly, the spitting image of his dead best friend. "What are you doing?"

"Reminiscing," Sirius replied.

His godson took the seat across from him and helped himself to some butterbeer. "I've only just gotten away, Hermione's been ranting about her Arithmancy teacher-"

"Vector? I had her, she was okay," said Sirius.

"Yeah, well, she's on sick leave," said Harry darkly. "And Hermione's not very happy with the replacement, says that the new one doesn't give them enough instruction, doesn't follow fifth-year syllabus as well as she'd like, Professor Vector was _loads better…"_

"Well, can't always have what you want," said Sirius absentmindedly.

"Yeah…" Harry swallowed the last of his butterbeer. "So what were you reminiscing about?"

"Alternative future," answered Sirius moodily.

Harry looked up at him curiously.

"Where I would've been if it weren't for that filthy, lying, worthless, traitorous scumbag of a rat," clarified Sirius wryly.

"Oh…" His godson suddenly looked awkward and hastened to open another bottle of butterbeer.

"It's okay," said Sirius quickly. "I just thought…I'd be married now, with a family, not under house arrest because the Ministry's a bunch of dunderheads." He felt somewhat stupid for confiding his stagnant dreams to a fifteen-year-old whose wisdom factor would surely rank low into the single digits, but he couldn't help himself. Harry looked so much like James, and Sirius had shared everything with James, back when they were in their teens…

"Oh, well." Harry took a lengthy amount of time to steadily empty the bottle of butterbeer clutched in his hand. "When the Ministry finally believes me…and Dumbledore…you could…you know, get your life back," he finished lamely.

Sirius felt a rush of affection for his godson. "I suppose…" He stared into the flames of the fireplace, thinking, when Harry's hesitant voice broke into his thoughts. "Who…was there someone you fancied…when you were my age, I mean?"

Sirius looked back at Harry thoughtfully, who quickly flushed. "I mean, you don't have to answer, I was just asking-"

"Yeah, I did," said Sirius quietly, and Harry lapsed into silence. "A lot, actually, never took any of them seriously. But there was one…" he continued staring into the fiery orange depths of the fire, as if looking there would help him remember. "She was a special case. She changed the way I thought, turned my whole world upside-down…"

"Who was it?" Harry asked.

"It doesn't matter anymore," said Sirius dismissively, resolutely clunking down his near-empty bottle. "I don't know what's happened to her…I told her I loved her and she ran off with a Death Eater…"

"Wha-but that's insane!" Harry spluttered.

Sirius smiled bitterly. "Yes, but that's the way the world works, supposedly…"

"I bet she's sorry now!" said Harry fiercely. "I mean-a Death Eater…come off it…"

"Trust me, she's probably happier than she's ever been," said Sirius dully.

Harry suddenly looked awkward again, and did not question Sirius any further, although darting hopeful glances at him every now and then, in case he decided to expand further on the topic himself. However, Sirius was no longer in a mood to talk about his feelings or his past, and did not digress. Tension hung thick in the air, what with Sirius intent on keeping his silence and Harry trying to discreetly sip his butterbeer. Five minutes of this and Harry gave up. "…I think I'd better be off to bed, Mrs. Weasley might give me a telling-off, or something…" Harry said with a grimace, trailing off. His words weren't having the desired effect on his godfather, who was still staring almost wistfully into the fire again. "Sirius?"

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead," said Sirius, waving him away as if he were some pestilent bug. "Happy Christmas Eve…"

"Yeah, you too," said Harry, hurriedly getting out of his chair. He paused. "…you're all right?"

"Oh, I'm fine, just, you know…" Sirius mumbled.

"Oh, okay," said Harry, relieved. With a swish of his dressing gown he went up the rickety stairs. A creak on the topmost step and the sound of a shutting door ensured that Harry was now in his room, getting into bed, while he, Sirius, was still in the dungeon kitchen, wondering whether if he'd ever be all right…


End file.
